I Will
by E. S. Young
Summary: With a bottle of whisky and the place to themselves, Jude and Max have everything they need for the perfect Boys' Night In. The bottle is drained, and things get interesting, but then go awry, leading Jude to contemplate this relationship. One-shot.


**I Will**

By

_E. S. Young_

After being a slash fan for several years, I finally decided to write some of my own. Funny that it wasn't a bit of Sparrington for the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ fandom, but maybe that's just because, as much as I adore that ship, I'm even more in love with my own personal threesome involving James, Captain Jack, and Julia the prostitute—a ménage a trios that only those who have read my PotC fics will understand). And anyway, Jude and Max are too cute for words, so therefore, I must write slash. Yay, slash! Also, I'm placing this in a pre-Vietnam, pre-Lucy setting, though there's no specific date for it. If you must have one, however, you could say that it's about a month or two after our darling boys get their place in New York.

On that note, yes, I really should be working on the next chapter of _the Little Flow'rs_, but rest assured that it's about halfway done. And besides, you, my dear readers, should know full well that I can't pass up an idea when it enters my head. :)

One last thing: Warning. Sexual content ahead.

۞۞۞

He was drunk. Warm, nicely soused drunk—a rather pleasant buzz. But he was not so utterly trashed that he didn't know what was going on around him or wasn't aware that someone was covering his neck in soft, whisky-scented kisses. _Especially _when that someone happened to be a bloke.

Max was also drunk. Giggly, teetering, completely shit-faced—a 'so-hideously-inebriated-you-_know__­_-that-you'll-regret-this-come-morning' drunk. Needless to say, the American had consumed a far greater amount of the whisky than he had (crazy bugger didn't know how to share, but he supposed that this was Max's way of making it up to him, and, truthfully, it wasn't all that bad).

They had been here before, he recalled. It seemed that, when the two were drunk and alone together, the result was that both would become rather affectionate, which would lead to cuddling, which would lead to kissing, followed by necking, and then touching, and eventually somebody's trousers would vanish, until finally…

But they had never quite gotten _there_. So far, just when they thought that at last they were about to meet that moment, something (usually something painful or embarrassing—or both) had always happened. Sadie or Prudence would walk into the room or Jojo would suddenly plug in his amp, creating a horrible screech that would scare them both shitless, making them jump. Or, just as one was ready to enter the other, they would suddenly realize that they had forgotten the lubricant. Or, worst of all, Max, the little tease, would climb on top of him, work his way down with torturous licks and kisses…only to slip and knee him in the groin. Needless to say, it had killed the moment entirely, though his best mate had been adorably distressed and apologetic about the whole thing (it hadn't made his balls feel any better, but it had been sweet all the same).

Now, here they were again—déjà vu—sitting on the floor of the living room with the place to themselves, both wasted, and him with a lapful of Max whispering slurred sweet nothings in his ear.

"Mmm…want you…want you _so_ bad…"

He gasped as that clever, velvety tongue slipped to the spot right behind his ear.

"Max…"

"Mmm…"

"I…bedroom. Now. Please?"

The American grinned mischievously, nuzzling his neck like the cruel bastard that he was.

"Okay."

He successfully managed to rise to his feet with only a little trouble, though his friend was another story entirely. As the considerably more plastered of the two, Max had more difficulty standing than he had. Not wanting him to fall on his drunken arse (and also wanting to get to the bedroom before the moment passed them by), he took pity on the poor blighter and helped him to his feet.

Without bothering to release his hand, he tugged Max through the beaded door, pulling at shirts, trousers, and boxers and tossing each article aside. Naked and laughing like idiots, they tumbled onto the familiar mattress in a delightful whirl of kissing, touching, stroking.

He lay flat on his back, breathless with laughter, his entire being tingling with excitement and anticipation as Max climbed on top of him. The pretty blonde was grinning like mad, looking pale—illuminated—in the moonlight, bright blue eyes alight with devilry.

Breath shaky, his shaft already half hard, as the other boy resumed what he had started, diving for his lips, that warm and satiny tongue entangled with his own before he knew what was happening. Mesmerized, he didn't even notice when Max's hand began to move, lithe fingers trailing across his chest, lightly circling attentive nipples…then ghosting over his abdomen and downward, twining for just a second with dark curls of hair before stroking his inner thighs, teasing, taunting, always with the promise of more to come.

He reached out to cup Max's face and snake his fingers through shaggy blonde hair. That lovely mouth smiled against his own and he opened his eyes to meet the azure ones that hovered mere inches above him.

Just like that, Max abandoned his lips. Neglected, he whimpered but was cut off when a tongue began rolling slowly and—_yesGodyes_—tantalizingly over each nipple in turn. And then, suddenly, that very same tongue was down _there_—right _there_—on that sweet, sensitive spot just below the head of his dick—tasting and savoring with hot, heavy licks.

He lifted his head a little, met the wild, blue-eyed gaze, and his eyes fluttered shut as his head dropped back onto the pillow.

The next thing he knew, Max had swallowed him whole. Again, he gasped, bucking his hips a little at the sudden sensation. His eyes squeezed shut. His toes curled. He gripped the sheets tightly, biting down on his lower lip, unsure of how long he would be able to contain himself. This was torture at its finest and it _felt so good_… Surely, release would be the only thing better..?

"Jesus, God—_Max_…"

He had to, he had to let go. _Now_. There couldn't be any more holding back…not when—_Christ!_—he was ready to explode—

A strangled gagging noise, and then…cold. Harsh, painful, all-too-real _cold_.

Max was gone. His mouth, that artful tongue—_he _was gone. And he had abandoned him—left him, quite literally, out in the cold.

Outraged, he struggled to sit up, nearly ready to take a swing at the bastard for being so heartless. But stopped the moment his eyes landed on the figure at the end of the bed. Sitting quite still, doubled over, legs tucked beneath him, Max was no longer luminous but a sickly shade of whitish-green. Slowly he raised his head, looking at him through curtains of wheat-colored hair.

"Jude..?" he asked shakily, holding his belly in pain. "I don't feel so good…"

All thoughts of pleasure momentarily forgotten, he placed a gentle hand on the thin shoulder, hoping to steady the slightly swaying man.

"Max," he began worriedly, "you okay, mate? D'you need to puke or anything?"

He shook his head weakly.

"I don't think so… Just feel sick…"

"C'mere," he said at once. "Lie down for a bit."

Max nodded faintly, for once allowing himself to be guided.

Very gently, he gathered the smaller man into his arms and, holding the slight frame close to his own, let the blonde head rest on his shoulder.

"Shit…" Max groaned quietly. "This sucks."

"Yeah," he admitted before he could stop himself.

Despite what must have been a nauseating headache, Max turned to look up at him with the prettiest, most apologetic eyes he had ever seen and he suddenly felt like the biggest prick in the universe for agreeing with him.

"M'sorry, man," Max whispered, looking so damn sincere and making him feel even worse.

"It's all right," he assured him, tucking a blonde lock behind his ear.

"Yeah, right," his friend muttered, looking, if possible, more miserable than before.

Gently, he pressed his lips to the sweat-damp forehead, wishing he could kiss it better—not even for his lonely cock's sake, but because he hated seeing his friend in any sort of pain (even if the stupid bugger _had_ brought it on himself).

"Nah, I mean it," he said quietly, resting his chin atop the fair head. "We'll get there, someday."

"You won't wanna wait."

"'Course I will," he stated simply.

"You're a fucking idiot, then," his friend bitterly informed him before he broke off with a moan and curled into himself.

He smirked faintly, making soothing circles on the tense back.

"I know."

Softly, he began to murmur a song into his friend's ear, a pretty melody, one of love and assurance.

"_Who knows how long I've loved you?_

_You know I love you still._

_Will I wait a lonely lifetime?_

_If you want me to, I will._"

He watched as his friend's eyes grew heavy, but for a while the long lashes fluttered, trying to remain awake as if he thought that he would be able to recover and finish what he had started.

Laughing quietly, he gently instructed, "Get some sleep, mate. You'll feel better in the morning."

Max nodded vaguely and, no longer able to keep them open, gave in, letting his eyes drift shut.

Seeing this, he found himself smiling as he continued to murmur:

"_And if I ever saw you,_

_I didn't catch your name._

_But it never really mattered—_

_I will always feel the same._"

Max muttered something unintelligible, snuggling closer, drawn to his warmth.

He was beginning to feel a bit drowsy himself as he stroked his friend's hair.

"_Love you forever, and forever—_

_Love you with all my heart._

_Love you whenever we're together,_

_Love you when we're apart._"

"Jude…"

He blinked sleepily, having thought that Max had drifted off.

"Yeah?"

A weary, blissful sigh and then,

"You're great, man. Y'know that? I love you."

He smiled again, happy to simply hold the smaller boy to him.

"_And when, at last, I find you,_

_Your song will fill the air._

_Sing it loud so I can hear you._

_Make it easy to be near you,_

_For the things you do endear you to me,_

_Oh, you know I will._"

Carefully, he kissed the top of the blonde head and whispered fondly,

"_I will_…"

۞۞۞

**Notes**

"Mmm…want you…want you _so_ bad…" – I feel so cliché for using this line (you'd think that if I was going to reference a Beatles' song, I could have at least come up with one that wasn't in the movie), but it just fit so well that I couldn't resist.

…Max had swallowed him whole – a lot of the time, smut amuses me because of several metaphors that I've seen people use (it's not that it's poorly written; it's just that I'm immature like that). This just happened to be one of my favorites, so I couldn't pass up the opportunity to use it.

… he suddenly felt like the biggest prick in the universe… - yes, I had to use the word 'universe' rather than 'world.'

"I Will" – honestly, when it comes to most musical-based fanfiction, I hate it when people put songs in their stories, whether they're just recycling ones from the musical or throwing in ones from somewhere else—both instances just bother me. However, because there are so many _other_ Beatles' songs that _weren't _used in _Across the Universe_, I have very little (if any) qualms about song-fics. So long as the song fits the story, of course, and, obviously, I feel that this one does. :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Across the Universe_ and therefore do not own Jude and Max—they and any other character that was mentioned are all property of Julie Taymor (who is an amazing, brilliant individual). The song "I Will" belongs to the Beatles (who are just as amazing and brilliant, if not more so because, among other reasons, without them, we would not have _Across the Universe_). I am not making any money off of these, so kindly refrain from suing me.

A Simple Request from the Author

I would not like to have to take this story down and rewrite it again as I have done with my works in the past. Therefore, I am asking all of my readers to alert me at once if anything is historically inaccurate, anyone is out of character, words are improperly spelled, grammar isn't up to par, or if anything seems Mary-Sue-ish even in the slightest. Remember kids, praise may be nice and make the author feel good about him or herself, but constructive criticism is more helpful in the long run. Politeness is preferred, though you may be harsh if you like – sometimes a little severity is the only way to get the message across. But also take note that by merely writing, "Dear God, you suck big time. You suck. Your characters suck. Your story sucks. My eyes are bleeding from how much it sucks. Don't write anymore, I beg you" you aren't helping me anymore than people who say "OMG! U rool i wanna mary u!!!11 this is the new OTP!!!!1one1!" are. So please, help me out, but it if you can. _Merci_ in advance.


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